Chapter 594: Breaking the Fifth, Killing the Omen

The sun rose and the moon set, and before long it was the fifth day.

Before dawn, just as the Mao hour began, the servant of Master Zhou used a newly made bamboo broom to sweep the corners and thresholds, gathering dust and trash into a large cloth sack.

This thing is called the "Five Poverty Sack."

The "Five Poverty" refers to poverty of wisdom, poverty of learning, poverty of fate, poverty of connections, and poverty of aspiration—originating from Han Yu's "Sending Away Poverty" in the Tang Dynasty.

This custom is known as "Breaking the Fifth."

"Breaking the Fifth" has two taboos.

The "Five Poverty Sack" also has its rules: because "the first month forbids discarding," all trash since the first day has been collected into the Five Poverty Sack.

Soon, Master Zhou's servants finished sweeping, hung a paper figure on the sack, and together carried it to the southwest corner of the alley.

This corner corresponds to the Death Gate of the Kun trigram.

By custom, they must burn it and smash pottery, taking the meaning of "shatter-shatter peace," signifying the breaking of the taboo against discarding during the first month.

Master Zhou's servants had done this every year and were accustomed to it.

But this time, they were frightened, frequently turning their heads to glance toward the distant street.

At the end of the street lay the Grand Prince's Mansion.

On the first day, not a single soul survived the Grand Prince's Mansion; the entire street was littered with corpses, walls had collapsed, and all neighboring households had fled to relatives' homes for safety, leaving the area in ruins.

It wasn't that they didn't want to return—it was that on the second day, rumors spread that the old night watchman had seen something unclean here at midnight and had been frightened to death.

Some said these were the vengeful spirits of the dead soldiers.

Others claimed it was the demon cultists who had killed the Grand Prince, still active.

In short, no one dared return.

Besides, those living nearby were all high officials and nobles; some had already begun arranging to buy houses elsewhere.

Master Zhou was notoriously stingy, making life hard for his servants—who had to rise before dawn to burn the Five Poverty Sack.

The men trembled, moving swiftly.

As the flames nearly died out, they turned and ran back, then slammed the great gate shut with a clang.

"Thank goodness, nothing happened…"

"Look at you, scared stiff."

"Damn it, you were just as bad."

"In my view, it's still those demon cultists—so cruel, killing so many, even wiping out the Grand Prince's Mansion."

"Shh, speak softer, don't anger Master Zhou…"

Their voices faded into the distance.

What they didn't notice was that atop the dark, empty mansion across the way, two figures had appeared without warning.

"Hmph, wasted the whole night!"

"Forget it, calm down—the Blood Nuo Master has made his threat clear; if we slack off, he'll make us pay."

"If I'd known this, I never would've come to Chengdu…"

Both men were evil cultivators recruited by Lu Sheng using the Shu Prince's resources; they cared nothing for morality, but all had been cursed by the Blood Nuo Master—now they couldn't even run.

They leapt and raced across the rooftops, encountering many companions along the way, scattered across the city to monitor, exchanging covert signals with the Black Feather Guards patrolling the streets.

A vast net had been cast over all of Chengdu.

At dark street corners, the bonfires from burning Five Poverty Sacks glowed faintly; the people followed their customs, utterly unaware of the hidden killing intent lurking in the shadows…

Not long after, the sky brightened.

It seemed the seasonal energy had shifted; since the New Year, no snow had fallen, and the bitter wind gradually melted the accumulated snow.

Chengdu gradually awoke.

For many merchants, this day was more important than the New Year itself.

Welcoming the God of Wealth, breaking the Five Poverty, opening the shop doors—another year of toil began.

In Jingshui Old Street, east of the city, firecrackers crackled incessantly, smoke thick in the air, every household busy welcoming the God of Wealth.

"With utmost devotion, I take refuge and bow: seated on the Mystic Altar, golden wheel, Ruyi. When the Black Tiger roars, all demons and monsters tremble; when the Golden Whip rises, all evil spirits vanish…"

Inside a tailor's shop, an altar stood in the southeast wealth position, piled high with fruits, pastries, incense, candles, and wax offerings.

Amid curling blue smoke, Wang Daoxuan chanted the "Scripture of the God of Wealth."

He had carefully disguised himself, lifting the corners of his eyes and whitening his beard, enhancing his immortal aura.

His ritual motions were precise and formal.

Of course, he concealed all his Qi.

This altar had no actual power.

But to the tailor's shop owner, it appeared increasingly extraordinary—he marveled: "No wonder you're a high Daoist from Jiangmen; without this lantern festival, I'd never have gotten someone like you."

"Master Liu, you flatter me."

Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard and smiled faintly: "I act only for the sake of fate. Had I not been fated to meet Master Liu, no amount of gold would have moved me."

"I shall not let the Daoist go unrewarded."

Hearing this, Master Liu's face lit up with a grin. "Quick, bring the goods!"

Two servants obeyed and soon returned, panting as they carried a bamboo basket from the back courtyard.

Inside, copper coins were packed tightly, topped with a layer of "God of Fortune coins," and tied with red silk ribbons on both sides.

Wang Daoxuan frowned. "Master Liu, what is this?"

"Daoist, don't misunderstand."

The short, stout Master Liu hurried to explain: "It's our trade's custom: when a shop opens, we ring the bell three times, unseal the shutters, and the first transaction must be paid in copper coins—meaning 'copper heart brings profit.'"

Wang Daoxuan shook his head. "I know this custom well—I'm asking about these 'God of Fortune coins.'"

"Oh, these?"

Master Liu chuckled. "These were issued by the Prince's Mansion—exquisitely forged, I've never seen their like. I meant to hoard some, but suddenly a huge batch appeared on the market."

"Daoist, don't underestimate them—though they're just ceremonial coins, they're made of fine purple copper; even without the craftsmanship, each can be exchanged for ten copper coins…"

"That's not what I mean."

Wang Daoxuan cut him off, frowning. "Some say using these is inauspicious—surely you're not unafraid?"

Master Liu laughed heartily. "Daoist, you don't understand—these are blessed ceremonial coins, how could they be inauspicious? I've checked: the rumors come from the demon cultists hiding in Chengdu."

"Those demon cultists slaughtered the entire Grand Prince's Mansion during the New Year, and now they spread lies—they're clearly plotting evil. Daoist, don't believe them."

"I see…"

Wang Daoxuan made no argument, stroked his beard, and nodded. "Since fate binds me to Master Liu, I won't take payment."

"But… this is too much…"

"No matter."

Outside the tailor's shop, Wang Daoxuan gazed at the red firecracker debris littering the streets and the lively dragon and lion dances in the distance—he sighed softly.

After the great battle on the first day, they had parted ways with the Formless Prince.

He had suffered heavily; though he could not openly challenge the Shu Prince's forces, he wouldn't swallow his humiliation, so he sent his followers to spread fear about the "God of Fortune coins."

But now, the effect was poor.

The battle on the first day seemed to have backfired.

Since taking control of Chengdu, the Shu Prince had never harassed the people and was widely respected; the citizens clearly trusted him more.

The massacre of the Grand Prince's Mansion had only stirred sympathy.

Where fear of Chengdu's situation had once lingered, now a united anger had taken root.

Wang Daoxuan had even heard last night that some citizens planned to wrap "God of Fortune coins" into "gold ingot dumplings" for the festival.

This was an old "Breaking the Fifth" custom: whoever bit into a copper coin in their dumpling would be blessed by the God of Wealth in the coming year.

Thinking of this, Wang Daoxuan felt helpless.

He had seen many commoners already infected by the "God of Fortune coins'" aura; by the fifteenth day of the first month, nearly all would be targets—he couldn't save them all. Just then, shouts erupted around him.

"The Mystic Altar General rides on auspicious clouds!"

"The Black Tiger's Golden Whip breaks through the foggy ford!"

"The Wealth-Bringing Children stand on either side!"

"Bestow blessings, wealth, and—good fortune!"

Thick Sichuan accents, drawn out in long tones.

This was "chanting the God of Wealth verse"—singing auspicious phrases for good luck; servants competed to shout, and shopkeepers rewarded them with red envelopes.

With the arrival of "Breaking the Fifth," Chengdu once again buzzed with life.

Wang Daoxuan raised his fortune-telling banner, chanting the "Step-Empty Verse" as he walked into the crowd…

……

To counter Lu Sheng's scheme, Li Yan's group split into two.

!

On the early morning of the second day of the first month, Zhu Lin Liu Xian had already left Chengdu, carrying Li Yan's token, found the Qingcheng Mountain and Cheng family outside the city, and headed for Dujiangyan.

These men were all experts; in Chengdu, they couldn't directly fight the army, but in Dujiangyan, they could set up altars, perform rituals, launch surprise assassinations—everything they needed.

Destroy the source, and Lu Sheng's plan would collapse.

As for Li Yan and his group, they remained hidden in Chengdu, sowing discord, creating chaos, and drawing Lu Sheng's attention.

They too had dispersed into small units.

Wang Daoxuan disguised himself as a wandering Daoist, gathering gossip in the markets while seeking a way to counter the "God of Fortune coins."

Because of the Lantern Festival, many martial artists had gathered in the city; most were swindlers from the Golden Gate, and every ten steps along the street you'd see a blind fortune-teller, every hundred steps a diviner using the circular mirror technique.

Wang Daoxuan had once done this himself, so he mimicked it perfectly—even the patrolling soldiers from the garrison ignored him.

The Daoist wandered about, soon reaching the vicinity of the Nine-Hole Bridge; he feigned a casual stroll, but a rat had already seized a talisman and slipped through a small hole beneath the bridge's overgrown grass, burrowing underground…

The rat moved swiftly and soon entered the secret tunnel.

Inside the tunnel, candles glowed faintly.

Lu San sat cross-legged, using the dim light to mark a map of Chengdu.

Squeak~

One rat after another emerged from the darkness, scurried along the path of his brush, squeaked briefly, then vanished again into the shadows.

As the rats kept coming and going, the marked routes grew increasingly complex.

The Invisible Prince could exchange information with them only for Chengdu's secret tunnels—but he never expected Lu San's art could summon nearly half the city's rats to help unravel them.

Seeing Wang Daoxuan's message, Lu San paused thoughtfully, added another line, and slipped the talisman into a rat's mouth.

Soon, the rat darted swiftly into the tunnel.

In the darkness, it traveled for an unknown length of time before climbing upward through a narrow passage—and when it reappeared, it was in a back alley in eastern Chengdu.

In eastern Chengdu, ordinary civilians lived, and with the convergence of all sects and underworld factions, a peculiar phenomenon had formed:

The main streets were bustling, with teahouses and taverns everywhere; merchants often had their servants sweep the thresholds, so the area remained relatively clean.

But deep within the alleys, only dilapidated homes remained.

Commoners' dwellings mostly resembled Tujia stilt houses, with the first floor used to raise livestock—mainly chickens, pigs, and sheep.

As soon as you entered the alley, the stench overwhelmed you.

The rat moved swiftly, arriving at a large communal courtyard; though not a stilt house, it housed many chickens.

The courtyard was filled with sturdy men.

Despite the bitter cold, some chopped wood, others carved stone, their hands wielding all manner of carpenter's tools, working with fiery intensity.

Inside the main hall, besides Sha Lifei, were Hou Xuan and an old man.

"That's the situation."

Hou Xuan shook his head. "There is indeed a craftsman's guild in Chengdu skilled in Lu Ban's art, but they've long served the Prince of Shu and cannot be trusted."

"This Elder Wen is also an Xuanmen craftsman, but he offended an official of the Shu Prince's court and was forced into exile here."

"That's perfect."

Sha Lifei laughed heartily and bowed. "We entrust our matter to you, Elder. Money is no issue—we'll make sure you're satisfied."

The old man across from him smoked his pipe in silence. "Building a temple? Easy. I've led my disciples in constructing ten or more, never had a single mishap, and I'm not afraid of making enemies with the Shu Prince's court."

"The problem is—you can't get out of Chengdu…"

The old man was shrewd; he'd sensed the wind had turned and had hidden himself and his disciples here, avoiding trouble.

Hou Xuan had gone to great lengths to contact him on Li Yan's behalf.

Squeak~

At that moment, the rat darted from the corner, leapt onto Sha Lifei's leg in two or three hops.

Sha Lifei took it, smiling. "Elder, rest assured—there'll be an opportunity the day after tomorrow."

"On the seventh day of the first lunar month, during the Festival of the People's Day procession to the Thatched Cottage, some in Chengdu plan to flee the city—they've already mobilized connections."

"That day will surely be chaotic—perfect for getting you out…"

The group worked in secret, but Chengdu was no longer peaceful.

…

At the Baixiang Teahouse in eastern Chengdu, the storyteller was recounting Jiang Ziya slaying generals and enshrining gods, when the tea server passed by with a copper kettle.

Suddenly he stumbled, spilling boiling water.

Before the official could react, the scalding water splashed him—he screamed as a sharp spike pierced the back of his neck.

"Bravo!"

The old man at the next table slammed his table and cheered.

Spilled chili oil mixed with blood into a dark smear…

…

Inside a brothel on the old street, lanterns turned slowly.

Several martial artists were drinking and jesting with courtesans.

Boom!

The door was kicked open as a group of Black Feather Guards, accompanied by soldiers from the garrison, surged in and pinned them to the ground.

"My lord, we're innocent…"

"Enough talk. Who hired you to spread rumors?"

"We… we never saw them. We were only commissioned by the White Horse Gambling Den—the intermediary said it was better to know as little as possible."

"Go!"

The Shu Prince's men immediately departed.

Soon after, the nearby White Horse Gambling Den burst into flames…

…………

Without Li Yan's provocation, the Shu Prince's court had already moved against the Invisible Prince, determined to eliminate every troublemaker.

The Invisible Prince's people naturally refused to suffer losses.

Thus, a strange scene emerged in the city:

The main streets grew increasingly lively, civilians moving about as if normalcy had returned.

But in hidden corners, deadly duels raged.

As for Li Yan, he once again left Chengdu, found Yang Chenghua at the Fuhe Dock, and brought him to the Qingyang Palace.

The Qingyang Palace had once been bustling, filled with folk rituals blending shamanism and Daoism—the "God of Wealth Nuo Dance"—drawing crowds.

Now, it was chillingly empty.

"Elder, can you do it?"

Li Yan asked, his eyes fixed tightly on the Qingyang Palace.

Right now, there was only one thing he couldn't understand.

What had these old Daoists gained after their task was done, that so many martial elders had willingly sunk into corruption?

He had a feeling it might be connected to the Nine Cauldrons…

(End of Chapter)